A Whisper of Wings (14 page)

One simple win, and then they would travel to the Katakanii lands, where She would be there waiting for him, her eyes as bright and green as forest jewels. They would laugh and talk - really talk at last! He would make a song for her, and she would fill the air with the magic of her voice.

His mind whirled dizzily down from the heights of his imagination; for now, reality lay here amongst the daisies. Mrrimïmei snivelled unhappily beside him. Kotaru supposed he should be angry; Mrrimïmei was petulant and rash, but she always tried so hard…

Her nerves were worn to a ruin. Mrrimïmei was a nice girl who simply lacked all confidence in herself. She almost seemed to cause her own accidents, as if accidents gave her an excuse to stop trying. A reason to halt before she could be forced to put her abilities to the test…

Inspiration! Treat the cause and heal the symptom; to stop Mrrimïmei’s accidents, she must be given confidence. The thought seemed so simple it was positively warming. Kotaru gave the girl a hearty shake and smile.

“Can you think of anyone in the forest who can outrace you?” Kotaru warmed her with his smile. “Why else do you think we specially asked the King to place you on the team? Please accept the position. We need you. We really do.”

Mrrimïmei looked up at Kotaru then licked her lips, turning the information over in her mind. Suddenly the girl stood and wiped her hands.

“I… Alright. I’ll try. I’ll do better this time, just you see!”

She actually laughed as they flitted out across the open meadow. Kotaru tried to outdistance her, and Mrrimïmei shot ahead at an amazing turn of speed. She looked back across her shoulders and grinned at him in triumph.

Kotaru gazed at his companions and paused in silent thought. The King had asked Kotaru to form a team for the tribal games; it was to be Kotaru’s reward for his ‘good sense’ during the raid against the Katakanii tribe. His teamfolk were an odd selection. They were the strange ones - the folk that always seemed slightly out of place no matter where they went. The team contained none of the popular pinwheels of sport, and the nobility were completely unrepresented, even to the point of having a commoner as captain! A very strange team, to say the least.

“Well boy! So fierce, so thoughtful. A mighty captain pondering his tactics, eh?”

Kotaru whirled around. King Latikai loomed through the ferns, his huge swag belly swaying as he waded through the underbrush.

“So lad! An impressive show of talents. Fast, decisive! That’s what I want from my star team! You’ll win the tribal championships without a doubt.”

The young hunter felt a clench of awe about his heart. The King! He was actually speaking to the King! He nervously fell into a bow, trying to find his voice.

“Good! Good lad.” The King threw a huge arm about Kotaru’s shoulder, nearly crushing the youngster flat. “So boy, tell me what y’ need. You have the players, you have the gear. Is there anythin’ I can provide you?”

“Sire, these players you’ve given me - are you sure… I mean, there’s none of them as has any real practice with the game an’ all. They’re lovely people, but I’m wonderin’ if you’ve not made a wee bit of a mistake…”

The King patiently shook his head. He dragged Kotaru closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial bellow.

“Nay lad! You’ve fallen fer it yourself, y’ see? Always people look for the obvious talent. They think because you’re big or tall or handsome, or because your family is wealthy, that you’ve the makin’s of greatness!” A huge finger waggled at Kotaru’s nose. “Untrue! Greatness comes from the heart. And you, my lad, have that greatness within you!”

“I, sir?”

“That you do, lad, that you do! You have a spark, my boy! A spark that I want cherished. So here’s the test! Do you feel the dizzy scent of victory callin’ out to you?”

Kotaru saw a dazzling vision of beautiful green eyes, and his heart leapt as he thought once more of the girl.

“Yes sire!”

“Ha! That’s fine, lad. That’s just fine!” He slapped Kotaru on the back “Now go back to your practice, and don’t make me regret my confidence in you!”

Kotaru cracked out a clumsy salute.

“Yes sir! I mean no sir! I’ll do it. I’ll make us win, just you see! I’ll make you proud of all of us!”

Kotaru sketched a bow and sped back to his men. He gathered up his troops around him and began to fire them with a speech. Suddenly they were spilling back onto the playing field, the air ringing to the sound of battle yells.

The King watched with wicked eyes, his teeth clenched brightly in a grin.

That’s my boy! You take them and you make the bravest show since Mother Rain fought Lady Poison. You take all that optimism, and dash it straight into the Katakanii’s faces!

They’ll eat you for breakfast, boy. You and all your team of weeds and failures!

A loss to the Katakanii would salve the other tribe’s pride. With a hearty laugh the King strolled back towards the village. It was all going perfectly; the game would be an utterly splendid failure.

***

Mistress Traveesha planted her snout to earth in a profoundly graceful bow, remaining poised for just exactly the required amount of time before she raised her eyes to face the elders.

The leaders of Clan Swallow-Tail met once more in solemn council¹. Old Chitoochii stirred her teacup with a sprig of herbs and bored her gaze into the younger woman.

“So Traveesha, what mischief have your girls brought upon us now? Fights in the village; girls tearing one another into bits, our rules of conduct flagrantly abused! We hope that you have an explanation for this sorry plight?”

The Dancing mistress folded her hands within her lap, her voice the very model of control.

“It is not the dancers who are at fault, respected elder. It is but a single rebel. A wilful girl who has brought the crime of violence to our village.” Traveesha kept her face held in a sad mask of regret. “Nochorku-Zha, it pains me to report that your daughter Shadarii is unbalanced. Perhaps her disability has overtaxed her fragile mind. We have tried to be kind, and she has paid us back with hate. She has ruthlessly attacked another girl without any provocation…”

“Ha!”

A sudden bark of scorn made the assembly turn. They stared in outrage at a lean figure leaning insolently against the doorpost of the lodge.

Zhukora wore the simple garments of a huntress, her straight black hair streaming unbound below her slender waist. Sharp eyes gleamed as she made a wave of greeting with her hand.

“Ill manners father?” The girl seemed quite put out. “I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite in fact. I have come here in order to obey the tribal law - a law I respect too deeply to allow it to be broken.”

“Broken?” Counselor Chitoochii folded her arms across her breasts. “What nonsense is this! Your father has told you most firmly…”

Leaf leather rippled as Zhukora moved, her thin body framed by her startling blue wings.

“Why surely you are aware that any person made the object of a council debate has the right to state their defence? My sister cannot speak, and so someone else must protect her reputation. Father, is it not right that I should protect my beloved sister’s honour?”

“Father! As lord of the Swallow-tail clan, are you suggesting that there is a different law for the young as compared to the old? For high and low?”

There was a stir of motion from outside; a considerable audience of young tribesfolk had collected by the council lodge to listen. Zhukora had conducted her campaign with care, and Nochorku-Zha played clean into her hands.

“Eh? What’s that you say? Different law? Of course it’s a different law! Poison rot your insolence! You young idiots need putting in your place! Why in my day I’d never had of dreamed…”

Old counselor Fotoki hastily leapt in, drowning out Nochorku’s words.

“Why come now Nochorku-Zha! The council upholds the law for young and old alike!” He nervously glanced out the door. “The council would be most delighted to have you represent your sister.”

“My Lord, I thank you for your gracious reception. Pray forgive the disruption of your business.”

Zhukora sank gracefully down upon her shanks. Her sharp face twitched as she suddenly noted the High Priestess in the corner of the lodge. The High Priestess gave a nod of acknowledgement, sinking back into her talismans to watch events unfold.

Nochorku-Zha had hopelessly lost his train of thought. He stared in puzzlement at Traveesha and blinked his eyes.

“You there! What are you doing here?”

“Why my Lord, surely you remember! I am Traveesha, dancing mistress of the Past-holders. I came here at your request, Lord, to provide evidence against the dancing girl Shadarii.”

The High Priestess folded up her hands and smiled. Zhukora was a sheer pleasure to observe at work; the girl had a master’s touch.

Zhukora studied the set of a silver ring upon her finger. The ring was Daimïru’s, borrowed just for the occasion, and Zhukora rather liked the effect against her smooth black fur.

“Mistress Traveesha neglects to inform the council that Shadarii was provoked beyond all reason. Law requires three acts of provocation as justification for a violent act. The girl was jeered at, pelted with filth and finally actually challenged to the fight! I can produce at least twenty eye witnesses who will so testify.”

“In the future, I suggest that you avail yourself of full information before daring to approach the council! To do otherwise could compromise our judgment, a situation that is quite unthinkable!”